


Closet porn sex scene

by panisdead



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panisdead/pseuds/panisdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do I have to keep you quiet?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closet porn sex scene

**Author's Note:**

> Sex scene from an abandoned WIP.

"Don't watch them," he hisses in Rodney's ear, turning and pushing until his back is to John. He grabs one of Rodney's wrists, gone slack with surprise, and drags it up to the edge of the shelf that hits Rodney at chest height. "Don't watch," he says again, folding Rodney's hand over the smooth metal. "Keep--" the other wrist, "your eyes--" the other hand, "closed." He backs off just slightly, pulse thundering in his temples. Rodney's shoulders are tense, his hands clenched on the shelf, and this could be disastrous. This could be a horrible mistake, but right now John doesn't _care._

"Colonel?" Rodney's voice is tight and confused, but he doesn't actually seem afraid. "Maybe this isn't such a good--"

"Rodney." John leans in close, breathes right into his ear. "Are you going to tell me no?" He feels Rodney's answering shudder throughout his whole body.

"Of course not, I'm just suggesting that maybe you should weigh the possible consequences before you--" he breaks off in a gasp as John works a hand into his pants and palms his dick. He's already wet.

"And _I'm_ suggesting you shut the hell up and _close your eyes_." To his surprise, Rodney does, dropping his face into the crook of his elbow. That should be a positive sign, should mean John hasn't stepped farther over the line than their relationship can support. Instead, the move just stokes his anger, because if it was this easy all along, why the hell hasn't he taken advantage? It makes him want to push, to fight, to make Rodney as unsettled and off balance and _mad_ as he is.

He backs off again until the only part of him touching Rodney is the hand tight on his dick. Rodney's pants are hanging half off his ass, and John tugs them down further; just enough to bunch up around Rodney's thighs in the most irritating way possible. Then he steps back, waits. The soundtrack across the hall is still going strong, but he ignores it, focuses instead on the way Rodney's shoulders get tighter and tighter before he finally looks up at John with wide, uneasy eyes.

"Colonel, what--"

In a flash John's pressed flush up against his back again, knee forcing Rodney's thighs as far apart as his pants will allow. He strokes his free hand firmly over Rodney's busy, busy mouth, cutting him off for what seems like the thousandth time tonight. It sends a shock of hot, vicious pleasure through him to stop what are probably entirely reasonable questions, and he strings it out for himself when he puts his lips right against Rodney's ear and whispers, "Do I have to keep you quiet?"

Rodney sucks in a gasp as his dick surges in John's hand and he shakes his head frantically.

"Good," John breathes. He slides his hand down slow, slow, until his palm curves feather-light around Rodney's throat. "I'll help you remember."

Wetness slicks John's fingers on Rodney's dick as Rodney trembles all over, the whites of his eyes showing before he abruptly shuts them and buries his face in his arm. John rewards him with a slow, dragging stroke on his dick, with a soft little circle of his thumb against the hammering pulse at Rodney's jugular.

He doesn't have a free hand to touch himself, but it's still good. Better than good, the way Rodney shakes and shivers against him with each stroke, the way his throat works under John's fingers; the frantic little gasps and huffs of breath that he can't quite hold in. The walls of the closet seem to press in on them as John rubs himself roughly against the rise of Rodney's hip, not caring if his belt buckle scrapes. The noises from the hallway are getting louder, sharper, as that insane warrior stamina finally approaches an end, and John bites down on his own lip in an effort to outlast them. Rodney's chest is heaving, his breath hissing out through his nostrils so loudly it's almost a whine, and John knows that it's only his helping hand that's keeping Rodney from screaming the house down. And that's so good, the knowledge that he can have this, can _take_ this from Rodney, if from nowhere else in the galaxy, that he squeezes down with both hands as he nips sharply at Rodney's earlobe and whispers, "Give it to me, c'mon Rodney, give it up, come on--" until Rodney freezes and spills all over his hand.

He's on the edge himself, pleasure rising hot and sharp along his spine, at the base of his throat, prickling behind his eyes. Just a little more pressure and it would be enough, but he can still see movement out of the corner of his eye and he'll be damned if he can't outlast a guy whose last fuck was seven years ago. He'll hold out if it kills him, he thinks desperately as Teyla keens and convulses, but a few seconds later Ronon's back snaps upward into a beautiful frozen arch, and that's all John needs. Rodney's pulse thrums under his fingertips as John yanks his pants open, sinks his teeth into Rodney's shoulder, and comes all over the the hot, sweat-slick skin of his lower back.

**Author's Note:**

> This scene has been remixed by Helens78 [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/39401), and there is DVD commentary by Helens78 on both pieces [here](http://helensfic.dreamwidth.org/tag/-meta:commentary).


End file.
